


That Damn Peach

by Flowers_n_Dragons



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, M/M, PWP without Porn, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25131406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowers_n_Dragons/pseuds/Flowers_n_Dragons
Summary: It's the middle of the summer and Geralt is hot and bothered. Jaskier decides to eat a fruit.OrThe fruit porn summer fic nobody asked for.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 107





	That Damn Peach

It was all that damn peach's fault.

  
Technically, the offending fruit was merely the last drop in Geralt's overflowing cup of seething sexual frustration. He had been hot and bothered lately, in more ways than one. To set his mood, nature was resplendent, as it is wont to in midsummer; the smells, the sounds, the very vibrations in the air riled his Witcher senses. Flowers spreading their pollens, trees bearing fruit, bugs and birds buzzing and chirping with wild abandon.... The flora and fauna were teeming with life and sex, yet there he was, in the middle of a veritable carnal dry spell - - no lovers, well that was nothing out of the ordinary, but alas, neither brothels nor even a wayward courtesan was to be found in this godforsaken corner of the Continent to sate his hunger. Even an orgasm or two by his own hand would have sounded satisfactory for the time being, but noooo, even that was out of the question, what with the bard following him on the Path, quite literally. Jaskier was constantly near him, even at night, which was probably for the best, given his proclivity for getting in trouble. 

  
The bard's presence in itself would not have been a problem under other circumstances; they had developed a companionship of sorts, full of banter and grunts and even annoyed leers at times, but also full of care, warmth and laughter as well. Geralt had even caught himself staring fondly at him at times (only when Jaskier could not have noticed). So yes, they were just doing fine, as one could be with a Witcher.... Moreover, blessedly, Jaskier did not dare touch the Witcher (he had at least learnt to respect that boundary if not much else), so his current frustrations were not amplified by unwelcome physical contact, notwithstanding a) he just had to keep using his beautiful, sweet and sultry voice (adjectives which he never once used in his conversations with the bard of course), talking and singing.... and b) as usual, he was reeking with arousal, because of course he was.

  
Nevertheless, Geralt was not a Witcher for naught - - he was well-versed in keeping his feelings and urges in check, under control, yet alas, it was getting increasingly difficult. He hid it under his usual outwardly grim demeanor, glaring and grunting replacing words in his conversation with the bard. Thusly they trodded the road towards the next town, both wearing only their chemises (black and white, respectively) atop their trousers in the scorching afternoon heat. Roach, led by Geralt, was carrying their other belongings including Geralt's armour; Jaskier was animatedly talking about this and that alongside the heavily under-sexed, grumpy Witcher, who was humming in lieu of words in response. 

  
"... And that was quite a sight, really. Oh, you should have seen his face, Geralt!"   
"Hmmm."   
"Oh so that's your take on my story. Thank you, truly, you have been a marvelous audience today" Jaskier mock-bowed to Geralt, as if he were finishing a performance on stage. "Anyways, I am practically famished now, say, do we still have those peaches from yesterday?"   
"In the bag. Probably squished." Geralt pointed at said item, hanging from the saddle. Jaskier's sky blue eyes lit up and he raided the bag, producing a round, albeit slightly battered, piece of fuzzy fruit. He raised it to his nose, inhaling the sweet, ripe scent, his mouth smiling and already watering.   
"Perfect. Would you like some?" he offered.   
"No, thanks. It's all yours".   
"Is it now?" the bard grinned wickedly, his eyes twinkling with mischief and something else; something warm and enticing and... And Geralt had to look away fast, masking his inner turmoil with a dramatic roll of his amber eyes.   
"Stop flirting. Just eat it."   
" Ah dearest, " Geralt, to his horror, had to suppress a shiver at the endearment; fuck he was craving affection so badly, he agonised internally, "I will stop flirting", the other continued, holding Geralt's gaze again and not letting it go for the life of him, "when I am laid to rest in a grave. Mayhaps not even then" and with that, he started eating the peach. 

  
Except he did not eat it _per se_. He made fucking **love** to it, ravishing it with his mouth with abandon. He was biting into the supple flesh of the peach as if he were kissing it, closing his eyes as his lips and teeth tore at the skin, then opening his lids again, never averting his gaze, nipped a mouthful and carefully sipped and sucked on the nectar, lips still lingering on the pale yellow flesh, lest it oozed all over his hands, but still managing to gloss his lips and some of the surrounding skin with the juice in the most debauched fashion. After swallowing the tasty bite in his mouth, he gave out the quietest and most adorable yet somehow still sexy mewl and then continued his work around the globe of the peach in the same fashion : bite-kissing, nipping, sipping, sucking, mewling. Not breaking eye contact with Geralt, save for those moments when his lids fluttered close as his lips touched upon the next bite to be taken. Taking his time with the whole process , achingly so. 

  
Geralt was undone ; the last fetters of his steel resolve crumbled to dust in the face of such wanton display. He did not, simply could not care anymore about his regular concerns. His whole being throbbed with unadulterated _need_ for his bard.   
As Jaskier had just finished his show, Geralt stopped, grabbed his slightly sticky hand still holding the pit, and rasped,   
"Changed my mind. I would like to have a taste now. " Not waiting for a reply, he put his mouth to Jaskier's fingers and started lapping up the juice on the digits, with soft kisses and devilish little licks,cleaning them one by one. Pupils diluted from arousal, he held his gaze still on the brunette's face. The bard moaned loudly, his frame slightly but visibly shaking from the sensations, lids closed. With great effort, Jaskier managed to make one final quip,   
"Still have some left for you, then"; grinning lasciviously, he placed the last tiny morsel of the peach between his plump lips.   
Geralt, not lifting his left hand from the other's , used his right hand to caress the bard's jawline, tipping his head to the side to provide for a better angle then kissed him.

He kissed him with the force of all his repressed emotions and desires, his half-formed, barely-conscious needs and wants, as if Jaskier were the very source of everything good in the world. His blood sang in his ears as he used his whole body to ravish the bard; carding through and then grabbing sweaty, brown curles at he back of his head with his right, entwining and hugging a slim but muscular waist with his left, his lips and tongue dancing in an ancient rhythm with Jaskiers', pushing his thigh against the bard's groin creating some delicious friction for the now slowly writhing and gasping man in his arms, who was matching his every single move with equal fervor. He did not expect anything less from his menace of a bard. (He also had no idea when his brain decided on the use of the possessive pronoun, but he was too mad with lust to ponder such trivialities.) 

As Geralt was about to destroy the laces on the other man's breeches, Roach whinnied.

Rather indignantly. 

  
The pair broke the kiss, laughing a little embarrassedly. Geralt hesitantly broke their embrace, afraid to shatter the floating world of goodness and happiness and peaches and kisses and promises that had been theirs and only theirs in these brief yet eternal seconds? Minutes? , to calm the horse and to lead her to a small clearing not far from the road, but quite sheltered from any prying eyes. There were not many trees in the area, but the bushes and other foliage provided ample coverage should they need it.  
Abruptly, Geralt stopped in his steps altogether, his cognitive faculties in order again:Do they need it? He looked at the slightly disheveled man now following him, with a silent question and some worry written on his concerned face. He was about to speak up, when Jaskier, as if reading his mind, put his right index finger on his lips, and spoke breathlessly and surprisingly succinctly:

  
"Take me, my Witcher." 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there fellow Geraskier fans! *shy waving*  
> After lurking more than a month in this here part of AO3, I have been... Inspired to say the least by this amazing ship and community to get back to fangirling and fanfiction after *mumblemumble* years, in my nonexistent free time. Disclaimer : I have only seen the Netflix show and read an unholy amount of fanfic lately :) Will get around to read the books. Oh and I listen to The Amazing Devil (who doesn't *_*) :D  
> Anyways I hope you enjoyed this short story ; let me know what you think, leave kudos if so inclined :) oh and I have half a mind to go full smutty in a next chapter if there is interest ;) 
> 
> Am a non-native speaker with university education in English language , I am my own beta, feel free to point out any mistakes, I would love to improve :)


End file.
